


Another Morning's Birth

by emblazonet



Series: a thousand years [2]
Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: All of the Companion headcanons, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Companion foals being cute, Duty, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Reincarnation, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emblazonet/pseuds/emblazonet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two of the first Heralds ever Chosen, Gala and Yfandes, choose to reincarnate as Companions. They think they have a new chance to serve Valdemar together, to live their lives side-by-side as they could not as Heralds. But the fate of Heralds and Companions is seldom so kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Morning's Birth

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to [Mourning Songs](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6593350), though you don't have to read it first. 
> 
> Thanks to the ever-amazing [Zahnie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zahnie), who supported me throughout with her encouragement, insightful comments, and overall awesomeness. 
> 
> Recommended listening: The title of this fic comes from this song: [Another Morning's Birth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2iYoFKYpyY), the last song of the Sun & Shadow cycle. Zahnie & I also decided Christina Perri's [A Thousand Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9ayN39xmsI) is actually the Yfandes/Gala themesong. (For the best experience, start A Thousand Years for the audio and then watch [this video with the sound off](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOuEOmwtkjs).)

 

 

Yfandes died for the first time on a battlefield. She died as she lived, at the side of her king: and Restil died not far from her. Vulf fell from a spear and crushed her beneath. She felt Steladar stumble, felt Restil take an arrow through the strong connection Vulf still kept alive for her.

                 She reached through that connection, even as it weakened. Restil's daughter, Princess Sunilda, still sat proud on her Companion, surveying the field. She had a mind sharp as obsidian, and hair as bright as bronze. Yfandes would have been as proud to be her Herald as she had been Restil's and Valdemar's before him. : _How goes the battle, Sunny?_ :

                 Grief pierced her: Sunilda's. She could feel Yfandes's oncoming death, felt the feeble fade of her mindspeaking. : _Aunt 'Fandes! No! Please don't—it's...it's going well. We're going to win—:_ Her attention faltered; she must have looked or felt or seen where Yfandes and Restil lay. : _Oh FATHER! NO!_ :

                 : _We've lived long lives, Sunny_ : said Yfandes, calm around each painful breath. : _We're going to a hero's rest._ : And, adjusting her ability, she told all the Heralds in range, : _I love you._ :

                 Death came quickly after that, like sleep, so that she was aware one moment of her breath crushed out of her by Vulf's corpse and the horrible loss of their connection. She thought, _Gala, I will see you again_ , because there was no other thing she could think of to fill the hole of loss within her.

                 Darkness, light. Then mist, endless and silver. She smelled a sweet salty breeze and felt utter warmth.

                 "Is this the Havens?" she asked, although she did not exactly speak, nor did she have a body exactly. But all her senses appeared to work, somehow, without a body to sense. It was like a dream. She thought about her body, and one seemed to be here now, formed as she remembered, but translucent, a mist among mists.

                 "No," said a woman's voice, a rich sound that echoed though there were no walls or cliffs.

  _Gala?_   Yfandes lifted her ghostly hands, trying to pull apart the mist. That was a fruitless endeavour, but a shadowy figure came closer into sight. Yfandes lifted her gaze and was caught by eyes as blue as Vulf's had been—no, bluer, and distinct against the mist. Gala's eyes had not been blue, but brown. This wasn't Gala at all.

                 The Shadow-Lover gave the impression of smiling, though Yfandes could make out no facial features. "You served as a Herald, Yfandes."

                 "Yes," said Yfandes. Instinctively, she looked around for Restil, but was not surprised that she was alone with Death.

                 "Because of the nature of the boon granted to King Valdemar, Heralds are given choices at death, choices not otherwise open to spirits on their way to the Havens."

                 "I don't understand."

                 A lilting voice cut in, "That's because we're the first generation to be given the choice!"

                 Yfandes turned immediately, the Shadow-Lover forgotten; she flung herself into Gala's waiting arms, arms as translucent as her own, but still they felt like solid arms, and Gala was whole and here and where she belonged, where they belonged, and every pain of a lifetime waiting to see Gala again was fulfilled. If Yfandes' body could have let her, she would have wept.

                 "You waited for me," she whispered.

                 "Waiting in Death is a lot easier, with time not... mattering so much," Gala said, but when she kissed Yfandes, it belied her casual tone. Yfandes wished passionately to be corporeal, to feel the solidity this dream-world of Death could not give her. This was Gala, but it wasn't quite right. But for now, Yfandes thought, it was enough.

                 "I'll follow you wherever you go," Yfandes promised Gala. "I spent so much time going alone, forging my own way—I want to be where you are."

                 Gala held Yfandes's hands and kissed them, then gave them a lingering, amused look. "Do you think hands are necessary?" she asked.

 

* * *

 

Yfandes was born in the early morning in spring. The dawn was a glimmer of yellow at the edge of the Companions' Field, and the two Herald-Trainees on foalwatch were drooping against each other with tiredness. It was an easy birth, as far as Companions went: there was little need for intervention, and Yfandes came out after a comparatively easy labour. (Two other foals, Delian and Gala, were born that same week, and gave their mothers and foalwatching trainees great grief in the process.)

                 By the time the sun was reaching for noon, Yfandes stood on little trembling foal's legs, her whole body even smaller in comparison. She was like a dandelion puff in the tall grass, taking unsteady step after unsteady step. By afternoon she had survived over twenty falls, and could tumble amongst her other year-mates. 

                 By the end of the first week, her mother could mindspeak to her. : _Your name is Yfandes,:_ she said, a sentence she had been gently sending to her foal for days now. : _You are a Companion foal, which means you are special, amongst all creatures in the world. Someday, you will grow into your powers, and Choose a Herald to love and protect all your life.:_

                 Yfandes swivelled her ears all around, trying to locate the sound that resounded in her mind. : _Mama?_ : She didn't understand 'Companion', or the images that these words produced: tall white shapes like the mares and stallions of the Companion herd, bearing white-dressed humans on their backs as they pranced across the Field. She didn't understand, yet, that she had a mission. But she knew about words now: communication was more than an ear-flick, a pawing at the ground, the lean of a body into the wind.

                 Her mother draped her head protectively over Yfandes, which meant 'I love you' and was simple. A few words at a time, she began to teach Yfandes language, with all the complexity that entailed.

                The next week was hard for Yfandes. : _Gala!:_ she called to her close friend, and : _Delian!:_ to the colt who was less close to her. They never heard her, only responding to Yfandes' play-rears and invitations to run. Only the adult Companions could hear Yfandes, and since Yfandes loved language and chased down each new word as hard as she did her friends in tag-games, she'd begun to wear out the adults.

                By the end of the week, Yfandes had all but given up trying to mindspeak her friends. She mutely butted the large leather ball they were playing with. Gala pawed it away from Yfandes and rolled it away.

                : _Give it back!_ : Yfandes shouted. Mindspeaking was so natural for her.

                Gala stopped and flung up her head in surprise. She stared at Yfandes, her blue eye wide, her ears flicking back and forth and back and forth.

                : _Did you hear me? Are we mindspeaking? Think something back!_ :

                Gala's ears lay back. She tapped the leather ball with her hoof. Then; : _Heyla?:_

                Yfandes gave a leap of delight. : _Heyla! Gala, Gala, we can hear each other!_ :

                Gala squealed and ran forward, stopping just short of Yfandes to press her nose against her friends'. Her whiskers tickled gently. : _Yfandes, play... play with me?:_

 _:Always!:_ Yfandes said.

                It was a bit rough for Delian after that, until he'd finally mastered mindspeech: Yfandes and Gala used mindspeech to trick him, or would sometimes stand shoulder-to-shoulder, not willing to play physical games just yet when they could _talk_ , and learn new words and concepts from each other. But, Yfandes thought, that didn't mean body-language wasn't important. She draped her head over Gala's neck and felt like everything would be perfect forever.

 

* * *

 

                : _Come_ on: urged Delian, his hooves churning up the muddy grass in the Companion's Field. He reached the base of the hill earlier than the white surge of Yfandes, Gala, Fortin, Gymry and Juthat, dancing in place—a brief hesitation that cost him the race. Gala, who always held everything in reserve until the last moment, breezed past him and all but flew to the top of the hill. Yfandes followed her, a half-pace behind; the other Companion foals ate their dust.

                : _You were saying?_ : Gala asked with an arch flick of her tail.

                Delian headbutted her. Yfandes rammed the length of her body against Delian, and Gala whirled around, laughing with her ears and high-held tail.

                : _Stop being so immature,:_ Fortin complained. : _We're going to be adults soon! We're gonna be_ real _Companions! Act like it!:_

 _:Oh, don't be so stuffy,:_ Gymry said, and knocked her head against Fortin's. : _Even adults joke. Their jokes are just weirder half the time.:_

                They paraded along the hill, shoving each other and play-fighting with nips and kicks and smart comments. The sun sparkled on the broad Terilee River beneath them. They made their way to the Grove in high spirits, but the closer they got, the more sober they became. Companion foals didn't go near the Grove—even full-grown Companions spent little to no time there. Not unless there was a ritual to be observed, or a death to be mourned. This would be the foals' first time participating in a Grove-ritual.

                : _Are you scared?_ : Gala asked Yfandes privately.

                : _Kind of, maybe,:_ Yfandes said. : _I think I'm mostly interested. We'll find out who we were! How exciting is that?:_

 _:What if we don't like who we were?:_ asked Gala.

                : _Don't be silly_ : Yfandes said merrily, rubbing her nose on Gala's. : _How could you ever be someone unlikeable?_ :

                Taver met them at the edge of the Grove. The tall pines looked fearsome and serious, and Taver—was Taver. Handsome, ancient, implacable, serious. He watched the foals' capering simmer down, and waited until they were standing in a proper row before him. The foals were ostensibly calm, but Yfandes could see Fortin's low-held tail, Juthat's forcibly-cocked hoof that wasn't relaxed at all, Gymry's skin rippling with nerves. Yfandes realized her looking around nervously was her own tell; she dragged her attention back to Taver.

                : _This is an important day for you,_ : Taver said. : _You have spent your one decade as foals, as children. You have learned how to move in your bodies, you have learned the laws and spirit of Valdemar. All of you are ready to become the adult Companions your future Chosen will need. All of you are ready to find out who your former adult self was—or, if you are a new-formed spirit_ : here Juthat twitched, : _I will guide you through the knowledge you need._ :

                Yfandes's tail swished. She was ready. She, like the others, was big enough now to carry a rider. And she was so eager to find out the knowledge of who she had been that she felt she would burst.

                Taver turned around. He moved like a song, and Yfandes sighed in envy: Taver, as Grove-born—with his tall bearing, his radiant coat, his long crimped mane—was far grander than she could ever be. She followed him willingly, shoulder-to-shoulder with Gala. Delian wasn't far behind, and the rest followed Delian.

                They stepped through the trees towards the temple. The belltower rose above them, ominous and yet transcendent. It reached towards the heavens, and Yfandes felt the part of her dedicated to Valdemar stir: that very important core of her being that she had spent her foalhood cultivating.

                : _When I call your name, you will go around the temple._ : He sent them an image of Companion foals trotting clockwise around to the back. : _You will know what to do next._ :

                Delian was called first, then Fortin, and then Yfandes. She butted her nose against Gala's and slowly trotted down that hoofworn path behind the belltower. Mist rolled in from the Terilee River, faster than mist should, and she knew it for enchantment: had Taver, or the gods Taver served, called it into the physical realm, or was this a mindmagic that affected only Yfandes (and the other foals)? The tower was a solid, comfortable presence by her left shoulder, and she pressed close enough that her skin brushed over the aged stone.

                Her trotting slowed to a walk. Her muscles began to feel heavy. Her head drooped despite her earlier excitement, her hooves dragged along the dirt. Her eyelids fell.

 

* * *

 

The fire had burnt down to embers. She reached a small hand out to it, felt it smacked, began to cry—

                "Hush, 'Fandes," said her mother. "The fire will burn you. Remember, I sang you a song about a firebird? Sing it with me, now: _The firebird bright upon the branch/danger and delight/O, Hunter, guard your back_."

                Yfandes felt her brother put a fur around her shoulders as she sang, but she never looked away from the embers, and her little voice chimed in strongly with her mother's.

                "She'll be a bard!" said her father, and Yfandes knew it was so.

 

* * *

 

A hundred memories of childhood drifted over her as  waves sweep over a beach. They overlapped and intertwined, weaving together feeling and sensation rather than images of events. Pieces of Yfandes she had not understood began to slot in place: here was where her love of music began, here was why she always thought of the Terilee River as the 'Haven River,' here was the instinctual way she responded to far-off names of cities Yfandes the Companion Foal had never visited. Here was her love of the colour blue, and a wealth of songs that she missed with a powerful yearning.

 

* * *

 

 She remembered when Vulf had Chosen her.

                 Yfandes had been performing at a wealthy inn called the Running Hounds. Her brother was drumming, and her mother played a sad series of notes on her little wood flute to emphasize the tragic moment in the song Yfandes sang. When the song's story reached a high point, her mother played a happy trill. The audience clapped and cheered, and Yfandes tossed her head and laughed at a comment—it had been ribald, hadn't it?—when a horse's head had shoved open the door.

                 "That's one of those Herald's Companions," said the innkeeper in surprise, casting a reproachful look at the horse. "Where's your Herald, hey?"

                 The inn fell to murmurs and speculation. Heralds were a new thing, and there was something odd about those white horses that had shown up out of nowhere, looking rather more impressive than the average draybeast.

                 Yfandes, irritated at being upstaged, glared across the room into the horse's weird blue eyes.

                 Blue, fathomless, a summer sky hot and cloudless. Yfandes jerked, and walked to the horse. The cool autumn air outside snapped against her skin. It should have been a shock after the hot common room, but she felt warm and buoyed, as if she were swimming.

                 : _Yfandes, I have searched for you. You are mine, and Valdemar's, and I am yours. I Choose you._ :

                 The only time Vulf had even spoken to her, though in the years to come she depended on his love and his stolid presence through all the trials of her new Herald's life. Seldom had she regretted leaving her old bard's life behind, because the love she had gained more than fulfilled her.

 

* * *

 

 _Gala_.

                Love, and pain, and years of longing.

                She could have rested happily in the Havens, but Gala had called her, and duty had tugged at her, and she could not have resisted.

                Of course she would follow where Gala led.

 

* * *

 

Yfandes, no longer a foal, opened her summer-sky eyes. The weight of her 70-odd years as a human filled her. This Valdemar was an older place, and the customs had changed. There was no taboo against Companions speaking to their Chosen anymore. Haven had spilled out of its first set of defensive walls, and erected a second set. The permanent Gates that had held the country together had decayed over time, it seemed, and the knowledge to hold them was either lost or no longer necessary. The uses of bronze became fewer as iron and then steel rose in ascendance.

                There were so many more Heralds and Companions now than there had been even under Restil's rule. Yfandes shook her head as if to let her recovered memories settle.

                The mist faded away as she continued to walk around the belltower, back around to the front. It was good she knew how to be a Companion foal, and had years of practice, because the memories disoriented her a little, making her remember different feet, and hands—but her body knew how to place hooves, how to walk in this heavy, powerful body.

                She felt the glimmer of leylines around her, and if she pressed her senses, she would have found nodes. As a foal, they were like sunshine and starlight: something she was aware of, but not something she could touch. Now she could, if she wanted to. Everything had changed, a little.

                She was distantly aware of Companion foals leaving to go around the back and become one with their past self; she felt them come back again. She stood with her hooves in the grass and her back to the sun and breathed in and out, adjusting to the self inside her.

                Then Gala was there, Gala alive and young but full of the person she had been, her hooves all but dancing over the ground, Gala, her Gala, whom she followed back into life. Gala came to her, and Gala pressed her body against Yfandes's, and Gala said, : _I love you_ :, and Yfandes closed her eyes, content, in love, and sure of a bright future.

 

* * *

 

Yfandes leaned on the stable doorframe, rubbing an itch. Gala stamped a foot, urging the groom to work faster. He paused in settling the saddle on her back and patted her shoulder. "Don't you want to look your best?" he asked.

                 : _You used to be more patient, I think:_ Yfandes teased.

                 : _Never me:_ Gala said. : _You've grown forgetful in your old age.:_

                 The day was crisp, an autumn day so frigid and thin with the on-coming winter that Yfandes shivered despite her new growth of winter fur, and edged into the stable. The groom adjusted the saddle and strapped on the blue leather barding, silver bells tinkling gently.

                : _How did you know, though?:_ asked Yfandes.

                : _That I need to go on Search? I just did. You_ know _when it's time.:_

 _:And it's not anymore vague than that, huh? The Gods work in mysterious ways.:_ Yfandes reached out and nudged Gala's nose with her own, then got her head out of the way as the groom slid on the belled bitless bridle. : _You look beautiful, love. You'll dazzle your Chosen. Whoever they are._ :

                : _I hope so!_ : said Gala, and tossed her head just to hear the bells ring. There were ribbons wound in her mane. : _Well, I'm ready to go.:_ She nuzzled the groom as a thank you, and together they trotted out of the stable to the gate that led from the palace grounds to the city.

                : _I'm going to miss you_ ,: Yfandes said.

                : _Piffle_ ,: Gala said with a dismissive sweep of her tail. : _You'll be mindspeaking me every day. You will, won't you? And if you can't reach me, you can always ask Taver for a boost.:_

                : _Taver's too busy for such things:_ said Yfandes, : _Of course I'll be able to reach you. But I meant...:_

                Gala, belled and saddled and draped in blue barding and as fine a picture as any tapestry on a palace wall, came over to rub her head on Yfandes's neck. : _You meant this_ : she said.

                : _Yes._ :

                When Gala was gone, Yfandes flung herself into the Companion's Field, raced across the nearest bridge, and lost herself in running. She didn't want to Choose anyone, she thought. Part of her soul still felt tired from serving under King Valdemar and King Restil—even now, even nearly a decade after her coming-of-age. She was here for Gala, but Gala was here for someone else.

                Yfandes ran, the grass and dirt churning under her hooves, and felt miserably jealous of someone who was probably just a child, someone Gala hadn't even met yet.

                _You were never jealous of Padetha_ , thought Yfandes furiously to herself, _and Gala was never jealous of Vulf._ But that had been then, when Companions had been surrounded in mystique—when Companions had been aloof and mute, so unlike what they had become. For a reckless moment she wished she were lifebonded to Gala, so that part of Gala's soul was forever hers.

                But, Yfandes reminded herself, slowing to a canter as she circled close to the riding rings, Gala's soul had chosen to wait to reincarnate until Yfandes joined her. It didn't matter if they were lifebonded or not; they had made a choice. They had chosen duty to each other, as well as duty to Valdemar, in the face of all the danger and death that duty meant.

                Yfandes let out a long huffing sigh and tossed herself upwards over a slumped fence, as if she could jump out of her own negative thoughts. She landed smoothly and, seeing Herald trainees at the riding ring next to her gaping, arched her neck prettily. Then she flicked her tail and leapt the next fence she came to, and continued down the riverbank.

               

* * *

 

Yfandes knew all about Tylendel by the time Gala and her bedraggled Chosen came through the palace-city gate. It was a cloudy dusk, and under the bruised sky the boy looked like something large had chewed him up and, finding him indigestible, spat him back out again. His eyes were sunken, he had the vague air of being malnourished, and his hair was a dun mop. He huddled in the saddle and looked out at the world with wide, fearful eyes.

                : _He's doing a lot better now than he was_ : said Gala, half protective, half rueful. : _His mage Gift's gone and run him wild._ :

                : _Ouch.:_ Yfandes stepped in line to escort them to the stable. : _He needs a Herald-Mage then.:_

_:I'm having a hell of a time keeping him under shield. Can you please find me one?:_

_:Of course._ : There was no time for jealousy: this was Gala, her mage-partner, asking Yfandes to Mindspeak for her. It was joltingly normal.

                Which Herald-Mages were at the Collegium? Many were out dealing with the Three Rivers trade disaster—a mess involving a bloodmage, workers' strikes, and boat burning. Yfandes pressed on her magic, scanning the Companions' Field to see who was there, but it was long before she'd touched Kellan's mind that she came to the necessary conclusion.

                Herald-Mage Savil Ashkevron was the strongest Herald-Mage in the Collegium who was currently taking on students.

                : _Kellan, get your Chosen here now, please! We've got a baby mageling who needs some serious attention!:_ Yfandes sent a picture of Tylendel and Gala.

Kellan sent a soothing affirmation in return. In minutes, Herald-Mage Savil was flying across the ground, barefoot and wearing a purple housecoat.

                : _You couldn't have given your Chosen a ride?:_ Yfandes asked Kellan.

                : _I'm on the other side of the field! Besides, I don't tell her what to do. Not anymore. I'll scold her anyway, but it won't help. When you get a Herald, you'll sympathize. Mark my words._ :

                Yfandes snorted loudly, making Tylendel jump in Gala's saddle. She could catch, like a whisper, the reassurance Gala sent him.

                Well, if Kellan was going to be this indifferent... : _Fortin!:_

_:What? I found a very nice patch of grass that isn't frozen yet.:_

_:Get your Chosen to bring his teacher some shoes. Also a cloak or two. She's going to be taking on a new student, so maybe have him ask Donni to get things ready.:_

She felt Fortin sigh heavily. : _That does sound important. Thanks, 'Fandes.:_

                 Yfandes loitered by the stables, watching the action happen. Tylendel slipped off Gala's back, but didn't want to leave. He flung an arm around Gala's neck, and she nuzzled him gently.

                 When Savil showed up, panting, her grey hair flying all around her face in a messy corona, her toes dirty, rebelting her housecoat, not even Gala's strong shield could hold back the wash of fear-amusement-hilarity-hysteria that Tylendel went through in the span of seconds. Suddenly he was laughing so hard he bent over, and Savil was grinning self-deprecatingly and awkwardly before she got ahold of herself.

                 "I'm Herald-Mage Savil Ashkevron, boy." Her tone was brusque but not cold, and it cut right through Tylendel's hysteria. His laughter eased off, and he straightened, only to bow again.

                 "Pleasure to meet you," he managed. "Tylendel Frelennye. I've had... Gala says... there's a lot of..."

                 "Sounds like you've had a hell of a time dealing with your Mage-gift, lad, " said Savil. "You're going to be safe here. Gala will shield you wherever you are on the Palace Grounds, and I... I'll be giving you lessons. At least to begin with."

                 They were interrupted by Mardic with had an armful of clothing. The shoes went to Savil, who slipped them on, and Savil and Tylendel were given a cloak apiece. Tylendel hugged the cloak tight around himself, and then stood straighter.

                 "I'm Mardic, I'm a Herald-Trainee. One of Savil's students."

                 "Tylendel," said Tylendel, and smiled at Mardic. "I suppose I'm one now, too."

                 "Come on, boys," said Savil. "Let's get some hot dinner into our newest Trainee. Remember, you can visit Gala whenever you want—you should! It's important that you bond. But you'll be able to feel her even inside. I promise you, you're not alone here."

                 When they'd all trudged back to the Heralds' Quarters, Yfandes bolted into the stable and pressed up against Gala. She felt Gala's panting, felt her weariness. Unasked, she unspooled her own strength and power into Gala. Gala could've taken it from nodes, probably was, but that was a cold sort of energy. Yfandes wanted to bolster Gala with something better, something with love in it.

                 : _Thanks, dearest:_ said Gala. : _This constant shielding is a lot more tiring than I thought it would be. I've been  pulling a lot from leylines and nodes, but my body and mind aren't used to channeling so much. I'm feeling sort of... tenderized.:_

                 : _I'll try and help that, some:_ said Yfandes. : _My Mage-gift never was that strong when we were Heralds, but it's something else now.:_ Gala, used to Yfandes's pleased enthusiasm with her stronger abilities, nodded. _:So I'll see if I can't use some of that magic to soothe your poor channels.:_

                 Gala snorted at the terminology, and then sent out all her appreciation as Yfandes made good on her word.

 

* * *

 

Gala's bond with Tylendel changed things. Much more than Gala protested, and Yfandes struggled not to resent the boy for it.  Her attention was frequently elsewhere; she knew the names of non-Heralds Tylendel interacted with. She was still playful, still in the Field, still present—but no longer quite _there_.

                 : _It's the way of things,:_ Gala said one day when Yfandes was doing her best not to mope. It was almost winter now, though the sun shone bright. They stood in a shady willow overhang on the bank of the Terilee, drinking. : _Companions are companion to their Herald first. You understood duty, once.:_

                Yfandes pawed a stone loose from the grit and kicked it into the river.  : _I came back to be with you. Not all your life needs to revolve around which boy Tylendel's trying to seduce.:_

                : _No, but it does revolve around making sure he grows up into a fine Herald someday! Grow up, 'Fandes—we're not reborn to have normal lives. We're here to be aides._ :

                : _The world is still real to us,_ : said Yfandes. : _We're people, even if we're horse-shaped and magical and so on. We eat and run and suffer and breathe. And our relationship isn't fated or destiny—it's a choice we make to each other.:_ She huffed out a long impatient breath. : _Can't you just... be with me some of the time? In a few years you'll be leaving on circuit...:_

                 : _I spend all day with you, and you complain I'm not spending any time at all! You're impossible to please.:_ Gala made a rude nose, turned abruptly, and trotted away.

 

* * *

 

They made up a few days later. Of course they did. But the time spent with Gala now felt brittle, and they spent less and less time in each other's company. Tylendel's heart was broken; Gala spent a lot of time with him, nursing him through his first breakup.

                 Yfandes, who didn't like that this Valdemar, this hundreds of years older Valdemar, did not approve of same-sex couples that had once been a matter-of-course, started avoiding Gala.

                 There weren't many other Companions to spend real quality time with, she found. The only unpartnered Companions in the field were foals who had not gone through the memory ritual. Foals were well enough, but they weren't intellectually stimulating. And it burned at her, that people found her an aberration that she had never gone on Search. In desperation, she found herself seeking out Taver more and more. Taver, as the Monarch's Own Companion, did not have a bond of special closeness with Herald Lancir—when Lancir died, Taver would Choose anew.

                 It was after a particularly bitter argument with Gala over duty that Yfandes turned to Taver, and Taver offered her both a distraction and a chance to contribute to Valdemar.

                 As distractions went, it was only pleasurable out of spite or desperation. Yfandes really did not care a whit for men—or stallions. Taver enjoyed himself, and she'd shielded him out strongly so that he could have his pleasure and she could mire herself in pity.

                 The end result was mixed: Yfandes' belly swelled with twins, and Gala, in disgust or betrayal, took to avoiding her completely. It was not a good year.

                 In the spring, Yfandes foaled: a colt and a filly. The filly's name—it came sharp as a flash to Yfandes as she licked her newborns clean—was Eugenie, but the colt was a new spirit and—didn't want a name. Yfandes knew that with certainty. A name would find her son in time.

                 Companion foals are self-sufficient in a matter of months, as she'd learnt in her own foalhood. She loved them, in a distracted, mild way, and took pleasure in their company. There were a few other foals born that year, and when they were six months her twins had almost entirely traded the sole company of their mother for their year-mate herd and the interesting tutelage of the Companion herd in general.

                 It was not the way a human would mother. Yfandes remembered her human mother more often during this year, her mother from a lifetime ago, who had spent years closely teaching her daughter. Yfandes missed her, distantly, though her former life was more fog than feeling.

                 It was fall. A year ago, Gala had set out on Search. Now Gala sought out Yfandes. She found her in a pine-grove. : _'Fandes?:_ she sent.

                 Yfandes turned abruptly and didn't know how to feel. Afraid, maybe. Wary. Of _Gala_ , who once used to dance so lightly in taverns in a long-ago Haven. Who had saved so many with her magic. Who had been her partner, who she had lost, who she had returned for.

                 : _Heyla._ :

                 : _'Fandes, I... wanted to say... I'm sorry._ :

                 Yfandes felt her ears flick back.

                 Gala's head drooped. She continued, : _Look, I've been an ass about things. I mean, I still think I have valid points, but I didn't have to get confrontational about it.:_

                 : _I shouldn't have been jealous. And... I did lose track of duty. I... enjoyed myself so much. Forgot I'd been born again, instead of retiring to the Havens._ :

                Gala flinched. : _Do you resent me for that? That I called you back, even though, unlike me, you'd had a whole life already?_ :

                : _No! No, Gala, no, no. I wasn't ready to give up on Valdemar yet. I wanted to live. With you. Even if... things get rough, as they do for our kind._ : By which she meant, _Heralds and Companions_ , as a unit.

                Gala took one hesitant step forward, then another, soft on the pine-branches, and then draped her head over Yfandes's neck, and Yfandes turned a little so she could nuzzle at Gala's neck, and suddenly everything was alright in the world again and the future could throw all they wanted at them, because they were together, and they were a team, and this lifetime would surely turn out better than the last.

 

* * *

 

 

Yfandes was there the night Tylendel destroyed the pine-grove. It was Gala's alarm that drew her, and then there was the immensity of the force, the stabbing of magical lighting, the popping, almost-comical explosion of trees bursting outwards. She saw Gala push against the magic her Chosen commanded—or rather, the magic her Chosen had succumbed to.

                : _Gala, your magic can't hold it. Gala, no, Gala, run—:_

Gala was still fighting, ignoring Yfandes, all her attention focussed on the windstorm that was Tylendel and his latest lover.

                : _Tyreena's blessed ass, GALA! RUN!_ :

                Gala shrieked in pain and fury. Whatever was affecting her Chosen was confusing her. Yfandes ground her teeth, planted her hooves against the onrush of wind, and screamed for Kellan and any other Companion in range. : _GET HELP HERE. NOW.:_ She broadcasted an image of the grove, and its destruction.

                Gala reared and shot off into the darkness. Yfandes wasted no time in pursuing her. Yfandes could overhear her mindcall for Kellan as she ran. Gala didn't stop until she was by the door that led into Savil's suite. Yfandes pressed up against her, trying to calm her through her trembling.

                : _Hellfires, Gala, what's going on?_ :

                Gala didn't even bother trying to speak. She opened her mind to Yfandes and let the jumble of emotions and images and sensations of death and shock flood out. Yfandes staggered back, lashing her tail. She braced herself, and leaned into Gala again as she sorted through the mess of communication. She was still doing it while Savil, Rolf and Jaysen brought in Tylendel, his lover wandering behind them like a duckling.

                When Gala's shivering subsided, Yfandes said, : _So the boy's in grief and pain. The bond between twins is very, very strong._ : She thought of her own foals, of how Eugenie always knew what pain her brother was in. : _He'll pull through. He's a Herald.:_

                : _A trainee,:_ Gala said automatically, : _A little boy, really. Younger than his age, I think, because of how much fear his mage-gift put him through. I'll try and keep him sane. Maybe Vanyel will help. They're lifebonded. It will help.:_      

                : _I'll keep you sane, meanwhile,:_ said Yfandes.

 

* * *

 

The days leading up to Sovvan were harsh and miserable, and not because of the weather. Gala paced the length of the field, agitated or despondent in turn, depending on how poorly her Chosen faired.

                : _He's shutting me out!_ : Gala cried on the morning of Sovvan. It was not the first time she'd said it.

                : _He's grieving,_ : said Yfandes. But it worried her. When she had grieved for Gala, she had reached for Vulf. The comfort Vulf had given her had made her stand steadfast. And Restil had needed her. Perhaps Vanyel's need might help. That seemed to be the best they could do, although a lifebond so new seemed too fragile for the task of a loss so great it was almost the loss of self.

                (Eugenie had shuddered when Yfandes had told her about Tylendel and Staven, and her colt had huddled close to his sister and commented that he wouldn't survive it. Yfandes told him that he would have to.)

                : _Still,_ : said Gala, : _He's barely talking to me. He's shielded so tightly I can barely feel anything from him. If I didn't know better—do I know better?—it's like he's keeping secrets from me._ :

                Yfandes didn't know what to say. She sent a gentle touch of comfort. They wandered through the field, avoiding the damaged, blighted area where the pine-grove had once stood. The sun was drifting low in the west, slowly turning the field golden-orange. 

                Yfandes thought back into the misty memories of her former life. She'd had brothers once. They'd been young, and headstrong, and emotional. : _Maybe he's throwing a temper tantrum:_ she suggested, sending the memory of her youngest brother slamming shut the cottage door. He'd left for three days, sleeping in the smithy where he was apprenticed. He'd gotten over it. : _I think maybe your Chosen should see a mindhealer as soon as possible. I don't know that that young boy who loves him can handle it.:_

_:I've been thinking about it. Tomorrow I'm going to ask Kellan to ask Savil to do it. I think we've given him the space he needs, but if the wounds aren't healing properly, then we need to bring in help.:_

                It got windier as the night went on. The two Companions trotted for the stable to get out of the chill. They didn't go to their stalls, but to the indoor riding room, where several other Companions milled about, enjoying each others' company. More observant Companions were out at the temple, mourning the dead. Sovvan was one of the few occasions when Companions would go near the temple, although they never stayed out past midnight.

                They were about to go to their respective stalls for a snooze when Gala froze in shock.

                : _What is it?:_ All the hairs on Yfandes' back lifted.

                : _He's constructing a Gate. A Gate! Oh no, oh no—'Lendel, what on earth are you doing?:_ Before Yfandes could react, Gala had kicked open the stable door and bolted into the night. Yfandes was soon at her heels.

                The madcap dash was more confusing and disorienting than anything Yfandes had yet done as a Companion. With no understanding of what was happening, and with Gala's mind firmly focussed on whatever it was that Tylendel was doing, all Yfandes could do was follow Gala running at node-enhanced speed, a blur with no direction she could follow. When Gala zigged, Yfandes zagged, losing her momentarily in the mazed streets of Haven. They passed through the city like fleet ghosts, startling townsfolk, leaping fences and barricades as if they were not there. Gala's impatience was palpable: she whinnied in annoyance when guards were too slow to open gates for her.

                Out in the country, she leaped more fences and trampled carelessly through fields—although, Yfandes thought as her hoof went through the mouldering shell of a pumpkin, the final harvest was over.

                There: Yfandes had felt the stir of gate energy as they ran, but now it was a big pressure all around her. Part of that was the way the magic interacted with the weather: much of that pressure was a newly forming storm.

                : _Boost me:_ Gala commanded, mindvoice chilly.

                Yfandes dropped all her shields at once and, as they had so many times done as Heralds, siphoned her power to Gala. Aware of all magical energies present, she felt a bitter anger not her own, and the slow start of a nasty-tinged spell.

                Gala formed magic like a spear and threw it into Tylendel's shields. They cracked at once, and bile hatred spewed out into them both.

                Yfandes stepped back from the Gate, her ears laid flat. The mind was—deranged. That was the only thing she could think of. So warped by vengeance and grief it was unrecognizable. She didn't even know if the person Gala knew as Tylendel was even there.

                It was like taking off bandages, Yfandes thought wildly: she had expected Tylendel's mind to be scabbed, but instead it was infected, green and wild and poisonous.

                Worse, far worse, was the spell Tylendel had now finished casting.

                _Wyrsa_. Yfandes took another step back, fear coursing through her. She knew those things. She'd _fought_ them, once. She'd lost good friends to the mages who had summoned the likes of wyrsa and other monsters. The memories surged out of her, and became Gala's too, even though they were memories of the life Yfandes had lived after Gala's death.

                : _No. I will end this,:_ said Gala.

                The cold anger was a stark contrast to the writhing heap of Tylendel's uncontrollable emotions.

                Yfandes reached out her neck to bite Gala—thinking to shock her, to stop her. There would be another solution. Two Companions were no match for wyrsa! But before she could react fast enough, Gala had leapt through the Gate, and all Yfandes' teeth closed on were a few long hairs from her tail.

                Not again. _Not again._ This was not supposed to be how it ended, not this time. : _TAVER! KELLAN!:_ she screamed, reaching for the nodes to boost her voice.

                Yfandes launched herself through the Gate, but it was too late. Gala shone in the midst of the wyrsa, glowing with a holy light, protecting the poor humans from a grisly fate by taking it on herself.

                : _You will not die:_ said Gala privately, and Yfandes swayed as Gala yanked every bit of magic she could from her.

                The trainee was crying. And Gala said, : _I do not know you. You are not my Chosen.:_

Open as she was, Yfandes could not withstand either Gala's cold repudiation or the way it finally broke Tylendel.  And she could not bear to feel Gala die again. She fell to her knees just as Taver, Kellan, and Felar charged into the fray, bearing their Chosen.

                It was Taver who helped her, after. After the wyrsa were defeated, while the Heralds discussed what to do, Taver came to her and gently nuzzled her. Strength flowed into her. Her heart was broken and Taver couldn't repair it, and yet—she knew what to do. She had bourne this before. She struggled to her feet.

                : _You will go through the Gate. There's nothing you can do now._ :

                Yfandes sighed, as close to a sob as a horse could make, and said, : _Thank you_.: She couldn't say anything else. She didn't know how to bear it. She couldn't look at Gala's mangled body. As she stepped up to the Gate, she registered Vanyel with shock. The boy looked at Tylendel with wide eyes, not able to see anything else. Open and raw as Yfandes was, she could feel the way the Gate-energy burned him. Poor thing. At least excruciating pain was easier to bear than heartache.

                She stepped into a country road, miles and miles from where her beloved lay, and found herself drenched in a storm that flung water down like a punishment.

                _What happened? Why couldn't I save her? This time, I should have been able to save her._ Yfandes trembled, exhausted in soul more than body. Her magic reserves were slowly refilling as she let the leylines nourish her. The Haven node would help, when she got close to the palace. _Why couldn't I save her?_

                She thought of Tylendel, barely human. Just a trainee. They should've been faster. Gala should have... Gala should have been more worried about Tylendel. Except that hadn't Yfandes counselled her that Tylendel was sulking like a little boy, as the one way he could handle his grief? And Vanyel, why hadn't Vanyel told anyone? Yfandes couldn't hate the boy, but he was as culpable as everyone. Even Kellan should have figured out— Yfandes felt her mind going in circles. Gala was dead, and Yfandes was angry and hating herself for everything.

                It was Gala's fault Yfandes was here, in the wretched rain, alone. Alone until death. Yfandes hated Valdemar then, and duty, and abstracts. She hated what this country had become—a place of intolerance and negligence, where incompetents failed to see that a boy's mind had been broken by a death he should never have experienced. Hated that Gala had died here, because of mistakes and petty vengeance, instead of in the front line of duty. What was the point? What had ever been the point?

                Yfandes could have been safe in the Havens. She could have been rewarded for her work under Restil. Now she had nothing. No Gala, no Chosen, only a fresh reopened wound to nurse under the pounding cold rain.

                By the time she made it back to the Companion's Field, the sharp edge of her anger had worn off. Now she was just sad. Even worse, she felt a weird kind of relief. That nagging worry that Gala was never there, because her mind was always occupied with Tylendel—that worry was gone. Gala even repudiated her bond. She was Yfandes's again, in a way. Shameful thinking, but it helped, a little.

                : _Yfandes. Herald-Trainee Tylendel is dead._ : The voice was Kellan's.

                Yfandes pulled herself free of her self-pity. : _...What?:_

_:He jumped off the belltower.:_

The Death Bell was tolling. Yfandes had ignored it, thinking it tolled for Gala—but of course, the Death Bell was for the death of _Heralds_.

                Everything was wrong, but suddenly something nagged at Yfandes. There was something unfinished. She trotted to where the Heralds were, to where Kellan was, where the broken body was, and then abruptly changed directions. : _Thank you for telling me:_

                : _'Fandes?_ : asked Kellan.

                 Yfandes ignored her. Delicately, she picked her way down the riverbank and paced along the edge of the riverbed. Something important, something more important than Tylendel's broken body, was here. There was unfinished business, and she knew no one was thinking about it, because everyone was distracted. She, too, should've been distracted, but she knew sharply, vividly, that there was only one kindred soul she truly had this night, only one person who could understand what she went through—and conversely, she was the only person who could understand his pain.

                 With her shields still down, it wasn't remotely hard to track the pain to its source.

                 Pain, and heartbreak, and a self-hate so crippling Yfandes realized that her own pain was no equal to this. Vanyel was a raw wound in the shape of a boy. He wanted to die, and it wasn't right.

                 Death had already taken Gala from her. Death had claimed a boy who had been sick, who they might've yet helped. Death would claim no one else tonight.

                 : _No. No, you must not. You must live, Chosen._ :

                 This was not how Choosings were supposed to work. Yfandes knew she had never been called to Search for her own Chosen. Yfandes wasn't even looking into his eyes, as Vulf had looked into hers so long ago. Yfandes Chose him in defiance of fate, of the gods, of the way things were supposed to be. It was stupid human mistakes that had led to two deaths, that even if it defied protocol, even if Vanyel had nothing inside him that said 'Herald' to her, Yfandes would make human choices to set things aright.

                 She had survived this death ( _Gala's death)_ before, and had helped form a nation that had already endured for nearly a thousand years. Now she would carry on that duty, because at the end of the day Yfandes knew there was more than love out there. Life was worth living, and she would convince this boy of that if it killed her.

                 As she lay curled around him, wrapping his poor wounded channels in a swaddling layer on layer of shields, she vowed that she would never make Gala's mistake. She would never overlook pain and grief, and at the very end, repudiate instead of fix. Gala had always been the one with the fast reflexes, the urge to run into trouble, impulsive. Yfandes shielded her own grief from the boy, but took on his own.

 


End file.
